The Five Elements
by Chelsea123
Summary: A girl with a unique ability joins Sam and Dean in their search for answers. Completely different take from Season 2.
1. Chapter 1

I set my book on the bedside table and pull the covers up to my chin, relaxing completely and preparing for sleep. Right when I'm in a dreamlike trance, I hear a noise downstairs and bolt up in bed. It sounded like someone twisting the doorknob to the front door. Being three in the morning, my usual bedtime, and home alone, I immediately reach for my purse and pepper spray. I hear more fiddling with the door before it's thrown open. I run for my window, which is connected to my roof, and prepare for flight when I hear hushed voices.

"This is called breaking and entering, _Dean_." I hear a male voice say.

"Since when have you had a problem with that before?" a different, rougher voice asks.

"Since the house we're breaking into belongs to _humans_." I hear them clomping around downstairs, and am frozen in fear.

"We're just here to look around. There's not even a car in the driveway."

I reach for my cell phone to call 911, but the floor creaks as I make my way across the room.

"Did you hear that?" a sudden voice asks, and I hear footsteps running up the stairs. I run the opposite way and fling my window open right when two guys step into my room.

"Wait! Wait. We're not here to hurt you. Look, we're cops", a puppy-faced man says calmingly, reaching into his jacket to pull out his wallet and a badge. He looks close to my age and has extremely trustworthy eyes.

I relax only a fraction, looking at them with apprehension. They're certainly not _acting_ like cops, but this guy looks like he wouldn't hurt a fly, and I find myself trusting him despite my best efforts.

The other guy, who looks slightly older – possibly 25 – pulls out his badge, too. "I'm Dean, and this is my partner, Sam. Can we ask you a few questions?"

"S-sure." Even if they _are_ cops, something has to be seriously wrong for them to show up at my door at three in the morning.

"Do you, uh, want to get dressed first?" the younger guy asks. I look down at myself, in short pajama shorts and a tank top, and back up at Sam. Dean's giving his partner a glare and Sam looks embarrassed. I shrug and reach for a sweatshirt on the floor. Putting it on, I look at them, waiting to be interrogated.

Dean walks over to the nearest chair and makes himself comfortable, while his partner shifts from foot to foot.

"So. Jade? Do you remember anything about your mother's death?" Dean asks, raising his eyebrows and shifting forward to relax his elbows on his knees. Sam looks over at him and angrily mouths something I can't see. Dean just keeps looking at me, expecting an answer.

"No." I reply, "I was just a baby. But didn't they close that case a long time ago? As an accident?"

"We have reason to believe it was arson." Sam quietly and sympathetically says. "So any details – anything at all – would be very helpful." Despite his calm and kind eyes, he now seems to be on edge about something.

"Well, I – " I'm cut off by a bang against my window. I whip around to see someone glaring in at me, standing on my roof. I'm yanked back by a rough hand, but not before I catch a glimpse of the guy's eyes – pure black. And then everything clicks.

Sam pulls out a jug of something and passes it to Dean as he opens the window, throwing liquid in his face. The guy screams in agony and Dean pulls out a gun. Sam throws me outside the bedroom door as I hear a gunshot, and both Dean and Sam pull me downstairs and out the front door, leading me towards a black Impala parked on the street.

"What's going on?!" I yell.

"Not now." Dean says aggressively and shoves me in the car. Both of them get in and we speed away, Sam and Dean giving each other anxious glances.

We keep driving, me fearfully clutching my sweater and listening to my heart work overtime. I think about asking again, but Dean keeps glancing back at me with a silencing look.

"Listen." Sam says, turning around in his seat. "We're not really cops."

"I figured." I mumble. What kind of cop would barge in unannounced at three in the morning, just to question me? I reach for the cell phone I managed to grab with me.

Dean eyes the cell phone through the mirror and slightly slows down the car. "Look, you don't have to believe us. You can ask us to drop you off right now - it's your choice. But we're the only people that can keep you alive right now, so I suggest you think twice before doing anything crazy."

I let out a sarcastic laugh. "You think pretty highly of yourself. I'm sure the _real_ cops can keep me just as safe from some psycho arsonist as you can. I'm calling the police, unless one of you can give me some answers."

"That wasn't an arsonist." Sam says. "And I'm pretty sure you don't _want_ to know the answers."

"I'm pretty sure I do." I retort. I know these guys aren't murderers. They wouldn't have saved my life, if so. But I'm pretty sure they know a lot more than I do, and I'm prepared to find out exactly who – or what – that guy was.

"He was a demon." Dean says from the wheel. Sam jerks his head towards him with wide eyes.

Now, if I was an average girl, this would be the time to call the police. But I'm far from average – and they just confirmed my exact suspicions. After all, I'd already dreamed this whole thing. Well, up until I was shoved into the car. For all I know, they _could_ be psychos. My vision had only lasted as long as the damn thing was dead. But with my belief (and run-ins) with the paranormal, I'm more set to believe them than not.

"Right. So you guys are like, demon killers or something?"

Dean swerves the car a bit and Sam stares at me with a gaping mouth.

"W-What? You believe us?" Sam asks in disbelief.

I smile. "Yeah, I do. I'm, uh, not exactly _thrilled_ to be here. But I'd sure rather be on your side than Lucifer's." I then explain to them, warily, my reoccurring dream of the demon.

"So you're like me." Sam says. "I see visions, too." He continues passionately, "We've been doing some research, and there are others with powers. Tons."

"And they've all been turning up dead." Dean adds cheerily.

"Well, then. I guess I owe you some gratitude." I say guardedly. I have a million more questions, but I'm suddenly hit with a huge wave of exhaustion. I lay down in the backseat and listen to the music flowing through the speakers. Sam and Dean both notice and stop talking.

A few minutes later, I hear Dean mutter something.

"What?" Sam asks, looking up from a journal he was peering through.

"I just said she's kind of hot for a psychic chick. You know, they usually have those turbans and –"

"Not exactly." I interrupt, half-asleep.

"Hm?" Sam turns around, surprised I'm still awake.

"I'm not psychic. It was just the one. Vision, that is."

Sam looks confused. "But, in all of our cases, these powers started manifesting at the exact same time. You should have – "

"They did. Manifest. But I'm not psychic."

"What?" Sam and Dean both say at the same time.

"I control elements." I murmur before falling into a deep sleep.


	2. Chapter 2

Concentrating on my energy, which is the founding element rarely expressed in boring texts, I think of hot flames. I picture them flickering and burning as I transfer several ounces of energy into my hands. When I open them, two small fires are nestled in my palms and I feel a slight drain from my strength.

"Holy _shit_, that's cool." I hear Dean say.

We're sitting in room B6 of some type of Inn we passed on our way to God knows where.

"What else can you do?" Sam asks almost cautiously.

"Water, Wind, and my personal favorite, Earth." I say, closing my hands and extinguishing the flames. "It all uses energy, though, which is also an element I can control. To some extent."

"Like lightning bolts?" Dean asks with a childish grin on his face. "Do it."

I laugh. "While electrocuting you _would_ be fun, I still have a lot of questions. Besides, it wares me out the most. It takes energy to use all of the elements, so when I release _pure_ energy, it takes longer to gain it back."

Sam releases a breath in what sounds like relief. He takes out his laptop and sets it up, doing more research I assume.

"So what other powers have you guys found?" I think out loud.

"We just met a real friendly guy with telekinesis." Dean says, digging into a bag of chips and stuffing them in his face. "But he blew his brains out."

My eyebrows rise in curiosity, but I let it go. "So where are we going? Am I safe to go home?"

Sam and Dean exchange a look, before Sam shuts his laptop and turns to me. "We're not sure. These demons – they're planning something. They're trying to use us to build an army of some kind."

"Well, they're doing a great job of "using" us. Isn't everyone with a power turning up dead?" I question back.

"That's the confusing part." Sam replies.

"Thing is, they seem to really want ol' Sammy here." Dean says, now sorting through a pile of guns and canisters.

My mind's whirling in thought. "So what are you trying to do? Kill all of these demons before they kill _us_?"

"Exactly." Dean responds, cocking a gun and glancing over at me.

"We think you should stay with us for a while." Sam says. "We'll head South and take you to our friend Bobby's house. He'll take care of you, and anyone else we find, until we figure this entire thing out."

I stare at him in shock. He wants to take me out of my home, tell me demons are after me and my other power-wielding cohorts, and then dump me off at his _friend_'_s_ house? I laugh.

"Um, I think not." I tell them. "I'm coming with you guys. I want to help."

"Listen. No offense, Zeus, but we've got things covered." Dean says.

I narrow my eyes and look over at Sam. "It's just dangerous. We don't want you to get hurt." he adds.

I scoff at them. "You just pulled out a gun and shot the sucker. It can't be that hard." I get up and start pacing. "Let me help. I can _help_."

"That wasn't just any gun, sweetheart. Not that you'd know how to shoot it if it _was_." Dean smirks.

"Idiots." I mumble. I reach over towards a gun on the side table. Sam and Dean instantly stand up, but I start taking it apart with expert skill, and then putting it back together. I look up at them and smirk. "I know how to handle a gun." I click the safety on and place it back on the table. "And what's it filled with, anyway?" I look up at them.

Sam and Dean both look completely shocked, but Sam surprisingly recovers faster and answers "rock salt."

I instantly grin, formulating a plan. "Is that how you kill demons? Rock salt?"

"No. It just holds them off; it won't let them enter doorways. Those guns are for ghosts" Sam starts to explain. I look over at the door and notice it's filled with a small line of rock salt. I never even noticed they put it there.

I close my eyes, call on my energy, and think of the pure form of salt. Channeling it towards the door, I release it, resulting in an avalanche of pure salt crystals to barricade the door three inches thick.

"Still think I'll get in the way?" I ask them.

"Neat trick, but it still won't kill a demon." Dean retorts, although he looks impressed.

"Then what _will_? Even if I don't go with you guys, you should at least let me know how to protect myself." It's a good argument, and I know it'll at least hit with Sam.

I'm right. Sam sighs, and then tells me everything. I learn about holy water (which in actuality is just water blessed by holy spirits. All you have to do is throw in a cross and chant some Latin), demon traps, and most importantly – the Colt, which currently has three bullets left. Thanks to it (and Dean, I reluctantly admit), my heart is still beating.

"Can I see it?" I ask.

"No." Dean and Sam both say at the same time. I look at them stubbornly, but neither of them let up. I roll my eyes, walk over to Sam's laptop without permission, and start researching.

Sam and Dean look over at each other, and huddle in a corner to talk. I hear a lot of whispered shouts, but I ignore them and keep Googling. After countless aimless clicks, I finally find what I'm looking for. "Just what I thought." I mumbled.

"What?" Dean and Sam simultaneously ask.

"Oh, nothing." I reply, looking at the screen and clicking around some more. Dean continues to stare at me with a hateful glare, but I keep clicking away. I'll get carpel tunnel if they don't ask again soon. I look at the screen, raise my eyebrows in surprise, and whistle lightly.

"WHAT?!" Dean practically shouts.

"Take a look at this." I say, flipping the laptop towards them. They both start over towards the screen, while I get up and slowly inch myself closer to the Colt.

Sam and Dean are immersed in one of the short stories I wrote for my college a few months ago. It was for one of my fiction writing classes, and I described a fake story of ghosts, demons, and vampires – it should keep them preoccupied long enough for me to find out how to be useful.

As soon as I grab the Colt, I'm hit with a blast of energy so strong my hair sticks straight up on my arms. I feared this – the gun's bullets, I can tell just from focusing on them, are some kind of pure energy formed by wild herbs - angelica, bettony and peony. The potency of them is extremely strong, fused together with some kind of binding magic inside a pure silver shell.

"Hey!" either Dean or Sam exclaims. I instantly drop the gun, following it onto the floor in a heap of exhaustion. I take slow breaths in and out, trying to regain the energy it took to concentrate on the Colt's essence.

"I know how to make more bullets." I tell them. I know it won't be easy, but I'm almost certain I can form them. "But you have to take me with you."


	3. Chapter 3

Thanks to those who've been reading, reviewing, etc! I really appreciate feedback on my stories.  It makes me write faster, too. I'm planning for this to be a decently long series, with me updating at least once a week. We'll see! Anyway, enjoy! And let me know what you think.

-----

Sam and Dean grudgingly agree to my demands, doubting I'll be able to make replicate bullets that actually work.

I'm starting to doubt _myself_, actually.

"Go ahead, then." Dean says cockily with a smirk on his face.

"Shut up."

I close my eyes and think. Hard. I hear someone clear their throat and I automatically lose concentration. I open my eyes again and glare at Dean before refocusing. The first step would be the herbs. Angelica, to start. I think of the plant, with small white flowers extending from its green sprout. I call on the Earth element, concentrating for several minutes before I'm able to make the plant appear in full form, inside my closed palm. I exhale slowly and open my eyes. Dean and Sam are now sitting, staring up at me, bored expressions on their faces.

Next I concentrate on betony, with its strong herbal scent. The remembrance of its smell, sometimes used in tea, makes it appear easier, sprigs of it sitting next to the angelica. Lastly, peony. Such a common flower, I'm able to remember its color, size, scent and smell vividly, and within seconds I have the three main ingredients.

Now comes the hard part. Silver, being of the earth and mined within caves, is an easy enough Earth element to reproduce. But for this, we need pure silver. Enough to be wrapped up into a neat, bullet-like shape. It doesn't have a completely unique quality about it, so I simply picture the color and hardness. It takes me close to ten minutes to make a slab of it show up. I'm so exhausted by this point, I'm not sure if I can continue.

I sit down on the bed and ask for something to eat.

Sam looks worried, instantly standing up to find a chip bag and hand it over. Not the most nutritious meal, but it'll certainly get some of my energy back up. I scarf some down and take a sip of Dean's beer, sitting on the table nearest to me.

"Help yourself." Dean says sarcastically.

Ignoring him, Sam asks "You couldn't do it?"

"I didn't say that. Be quiet." I tell them yet again, shutting my eyes again after replenishing my strength.

I place the herbs into the center of the silver, and concentrate all of my energy into that single palm. I feel parts of my body draining, and I center almost every ounce of my essence into this one task. In my extreme Zen-like trance, I suddenly release the energy, tightening the silver around the herbs in an extremely powerful blast of energy, working to bind everything together.

I open my eyes and see everything dimming out of my vision. I look up at Sam and Dean before passing out.

-----

When I wake up, it's darker, and I'm lying in a bed, wrapped in a thick comforter. I bolt up, eyes adjusting to the sight of Dean watching TV.

Dean quickly grabs for the remote, but not before I catch what he's watching.

"Oh, gross." I pull the blanket over my head and grunt in disgust.

Dean starts chuckling, and I hear the front door open.

"Sammy!" Dean shouts in a brotherly voice.

I look up to see Sam and an older guy walking into the Inn. The guy has grayish hair and a worn face, but looks just as friendly as Sam.

"Hey. Glad to see you're up." Sam replies with a crooked smile. "Jade, this is our friend Bobby. He's a hunter, too."

"Hi." I say with a wave of my hand. I go to stand up, but realize it's not such a good idea. My body is extremely weak, even though I feel like I've been sleeping for days.

"Woah," Sam says, reaching across the space between us and gently pushing me back to the bed. "You should lie back down. That bullet attempt took a lot out of you."

Sam hands a bag to me, and I weakly grab it, noticing the golden M arch before digging straight in. After my meal, during which we all sat in awkward silence and ate, I feel rejuvenated. I'm sure Coke is the main culprit – it always replenishes my energy.

"So." I say.

"So." Sam copies. He points his hand to the older guy. "I was telling Bobby what you've been doing, and he seems to think—"

"What I think", Bobby says, "is that you're not like Sam. In any way." He starts to stand up, reaching into a mini-fridge that has magically been restocked.

I give him a confused look. "What do you mean?"

"I'm talking about your powers. See, Sam's a human." He pops the cap off of his drink and takes a chug.

"What, and I'm not?" I snort. "No offense, but I think I know a _little_ more about my humane state than you. I would have noticed if I'd suddenly sprouted horns or grown hooves." I smirk at the image.

"Look." Bobby says, throwing a book at me. It's significantly dog-eared about halfway through, and I open it up to the creased page. At the top, in fancy calligraphy is the word "Elementals." I scrunch my eyebrows and begin to read.

_Elementals have been in lore since the beginning days of Earth. They control the four main elements -Earth, Fire, Wind, and Water - through the channeling of energy from living entities, including their own humanlike bodies. It is said that there will remain one immortal Elemental for each separate element, totaling four in entirety. They look over the Earth and its living creatures until the beginning of darkness._

I look up from the book to stare into Dean, Sam's, and Bobby's faces. I shake my head. "This doesn't make sense. I control _all_ of the elements."

"Keep reading," Bobby says in a rough voice.

_Seers have long said that a day will come, when the Earth has become too damaged with destruction and evil, that the four Elementals will unknowingly transfer all of their energy into one being. This supremely powerful being, from birth, will slowly gain power and be able to control each element in succession._

I gasp aloud before continuing.

_It is said that Dark entities will try to harness this Elemental's power, in hopes of bringing the Earth into darkness. This Supreme Elemental will have the power to choose the fate of the Earth – ridding it of all evil, or turning it into a land of chaos._

I stop reading and look at the many illustrations, depicting each element. The one capturing my entire attention depicts a girl being pulled on each arm – the left is being yanked by an ugly being of darkness, while the other is being pulled by a shining angel.

"Wow." I blurt out. I slip the book closed and push it away from me.

"That's what I said." Dean smirks. "But honestly, I think—"

"It's a load of shit." I finish, aloud. "Sam has powers, too. What makes him any different than me? Besides, you know, reproductive organs?" I joke. I mean, seriously? Decide the fate of the world? This is comic book trash.

Dean, Sam, and Bobby look at each other vigilantly. It's clear they've been discussing this a lot while I've been sleeping.

"We have a theory on that." Sam says. He and Bobby exchange another distasteful look.

Dean looks completely disbelieving, rolling his eyes in extreme exaggeration. "These knuckleheads," he begins, jerking his head in Sam and Bobby's direction, "seem to think you're special enough to warrant cavalry."

I look over at them, seeing Sam give Dean yet another glare. He turns back to me with a sympathetic gaze. "We think this demon, who's going after people with abilities? We think he might be trying to turn them into demons. Maybe making some kind of deal with them."

"What for?" I ask cautiously.

"You." Dean says with a smile. "See, these guys think Yellow-Eyes is building some kind of superhero army, blahblahblah." He waves the words away with his hand and props his feet up on my bed.

Bobby picks up the book again, showing me the same picture I'd been looking at earlier – the girl being pulled by both a demon and an angel. "It's what makes the most sense." Bobby starts. "We think he's trying to either turn you or kill you."

I glance at Bobby, with a look of determination on his face, then to Sammy, with one of worry. And finally, to Dean – his face is completely void of emotion.

If all of this is true, my future's not looking so bright. And neither is anyone else's.

"So what are we going to do?"

I get blank stares in response. Obviously, they haven't gotten this far. After a couple of minutes, Dean's the first to speak up.

"Well, Bobby here found a case one town over. Willow Square." Dean says, starting to pack up some of his weapons. "I say we take a look."

"But, Dean—" Sam starts.

"Look." Dean interrupts, "We don't know _what's_ going on with Yellow-Eyes. We're pretty much at the same point as before the girl showed up." He looks over at me before continuing. "All we can do is what we've _been_ doing. If something demonic pops up, we'll try and get more information. Alright?"

Sam gives a resigned sigh, settling for the only available option.

I smile, willing to put all of this Elemental/demonic stuff behind me for a while. "Oh." I say, not forgetting our previous deal with the Colt, "Guess you'll have to get me one of my own salt-rock guns."

"What are you talking about?" Dean questions.

"I'm going on this case with you." I say, picking up the new bullet, still enclosed in my palm.


	4. Chapter 4

Kansas blasts through the stereo, and I halfheartedly listen to Dean singing loudly and off-key. I rub my temples and rest my head on the backseat neck-rest. Sam's reading a newspaper article in the front seat, his cell phone in hand.

Turning down the radio, he punches in a number and holds it to his ear. After a short pause, he says "Hi, this is John Downy, from the Willow Square Police Department. I'd like to ask you a few questions about the recent deaths in your town." His voice is so professional and authoritative, I barely manage to disguise a laugh.

Only being able to hear his side of the conversation, I wait for him to get off the phone rather than eavesdrop and infer. It's much easier to just have it described to me at once.

"So he didn't tell me much more than we already know." Sam says, hanging up. "Just that mutilated bodies have been showing up. Five in the past six months."

I reach my hand out for the article, and Sam passes it to me. I glance through it some, but I've already had it relayed word for word by Sam. About five times.

"There has to be something this town isn't telling us." Dean says, glancing in his rearview mirror. "Or maybe it's not a case after all."

It's a thought. Maybe these murders are from actual humans. But then again…

"The bodies are _mutilated_. They suspect an _animal_." Sam says, pointing to the spot in the article that says just that.

I think it over. "So…werewolves?" I ask them. Sam and Dean had filled me in on a lot of their past cases, over several car rides and diner meals.

"That would be the most obvious answer," Sam responds, but doesn't sound entirely convinced. He opens the glove box and roots around among papers and matchboxes, until he lands on a book. He clears his lap and starts flipping through it. I assume it's "The Book". The one Sam and Dean's father put together over his many years as a hunter.

Dean pulls into a driveway and turns off the ignition. Turning around in his seat, he looks at me and sternly says, "Wait here."

I raise my eyebrows. "Yes, master." I respond in a monotone voice. What a joke. I unbuckle my seatbelt and reach for the door handle.

"I'm serious." Dean says again. Sam looks back at me sensitively, understanding that Dean won't let up unless I'm rooted in the car.

"Whatever", I say, rolling my eyes and stretching out in a relaxed pose. "I'll just sleep."

Sam smiles kindly and mouths "thank you" before they both get out of the Impala.

I tap my fingers on the back of the seat, waiting. And waiting. I rifle through The Book some more, count the number of dead ends I have, and chip my nail polish for a full fifteen minutes before I decide to go in after them. Getting out of the car, I slowly walk to the front door, opening it and walking towards the voices I hear in what I assume is the kitchen.

"I've already told the police everything I know. I don't really feel like repeating myself." A youngish male voice says irritably.

Dean groans, and I see him give am almost defeated look to Sam. Walking into the room, I smile at their surprised faces, before looking at a boy of about 18 or 19 sitting at the kitchen table.

"Hi," I say, extending my hand towards the boy and smiling. "I'm their other, smarter, partner." He looks at me and smiles before reaching out and shaking my hand, informing me his name is James.

"So, there's nothing more you can tell us, James?" I say, cocking my head slightly and batting my eyelashes. "Every piece of information helps."

"No. Idiot won't tell us anything." Dean mutters. I stomp my foot on his, smiling harder when I hear a pained grunt escape his lips.

"Well, uh" the boy says, looking at me and fiddling with something on the table. "I found the guy by that willow tree in the front yard", he continues, nodding his head towards a window depicting a huge willow tree among other landscape. "I already told the police this a couple months ago, but he was, um, pretty gross. His whole body was shredded. If it _was_ an animal, it's nothing I'd want to come across."

"Unbelievable." Dean mutters.

"You don't think it was an animal?" Sam asks confusingly. The boy glares at him, and then looks back at me. I raise my eyebrows.

He clears his throat and continues. "Well. Me and my mom have lived here our whole lives. Usually the only wildlife we get is a couple of deer and rabbits. But, um…" he looks reluctant to continue, but I reach out and give him an encouraging squeeze on his shoulder.

"There's this guy?" he asks in a smaller, questioning voice. "He's been going around town, telling everyone he saw this _thing_." He gives a nervous laugh and shakes his head, embarrassed.

I hear some movement behind me, and Dean asks "What kind of _thing_?"

James doesn't answer, but I reach into my newly acquired purse for a pad of paper and a pen. "Can you write down the guy's name? And any information you have about him?" I slide the paper and pen over to him, and watch as he writes them down.

Handing them back to me, he adds "No one really believes him. He's one of those government conspiracy types." He gives me a look, biting his lip. "But I saw that dead guy. And how mangled his body was. I don't know _what_ killed him, but I know it wasn't a freaking deer."

"Thanks for your help." I say, smiling at him, pushing the pad of paper into Dean's chest and smirking as he tries to catch it before it falls. Then I start to walk out, hearing footsteps following me.

Back in the car, Dean turns the music on and irritatingly looks at the paper. "I told you to stay in the car", he says in an angry voice.

"You were taking too long." I retort, stretching my feet out on the backseat and taking out my cell phone. It's dead now, but I was hoping I could find a cell phone charger of some kind in an electronic store. I didn't have time to grab mine when I was fleeing the house from demons.

"She _did_ help" Sam says. "The guy wouldn't even _talk_ until she showed up."

"Whatever." Dean says, reaching over to snap on his seatbelt. "We were wearing him down."

I snort, and then give an innocent face to Dean's succeeding glare. Guy needs to learn how to control his anger. As we're making our way towards the address James gave us, we each go into our usual routine: Dean driving, Sam researching, and me sleeping.

---

I wake up to a knife pressed against my throat.

"You have _got_ to be kidding me." I say. I'm still in Dean's car, but both of them are missing. I look up at the face of a 30-something man with slight eyebrows and raunchy breath.

"What are you doing in my driveway?" the man asks hostilely.

Thinking quickly, I force my energy into fire and stare at the hand holding the knife. Suddenly, he gasps in pain and drops his weapon, reaching out with his other arm to cradle his now-burnt hand. I scrabble out of the car within seconds, my adrenaline almost canceling out the exhaustion from using an element. I quickly pick up the stranger's knife before kicking out his legs, forcing him to the ground. I hold the tip of the knife towards his eye socket and hastily try to regain my breath.

"Are you Steve McCoy?" I gasp out to him. He's wearing sweatpants and a shirt with a hole in it that's bulging over his stomach. Both he and his clothes are covered in grime, which matches his house. From a couple quick glances, you'd assume it was a literal pigsty, complete with a whopping oinker to fill it up.

He smiles a crazy leer at me – you'd think his teeth would match his otherwise completely lack sense of hygiene, but they're almost too perfect. They gleam white. "What's it to you?"

I move the knife down to his throat and prick the tip in until a tiny drop of blood rivets down his throat. "Where are the two guys that were in the car with me?"

"Are you working for the gov?" he spits out, a gob of spittle literally flying from his mouth. Crazy old man.

I haunch down onto the heels of my feet, keeping the blade in place and staring coldheartedly into his eyes. "I'm the one holding the knife, asshole. So this is going to be a very one-sided game of 21 questions. Answer. Now."

He attempts to kick out at me, but I stomp on his stomach before he even has the chance, and he grunts in pain. "Yes, I'm Steve," he answers, licking his lips before continuing. "And I have no idea who you're talking about. No one else was in the car when I pulled in." I push my foot down harder – I'm guessing he responds more to actual pain than just threats of it. "Ow, I swear!"

I pull Steve up by his shirt-front and push him forward. "We're going inside" I say. I need to find Dean and Sam before I actually _use_ the knife on this slob of a specimen. I move the knife to his left shoulder blade, estimating where his heart is. He doesn't really try to struggle, which I'm surprised about. He opens the door with a rusty key placed under a flower pot, and I kick him in and shut the door behind me.

"Sam? Dean?" I call out. I was hoping they'd be searching in the house. The inside as just as dirty as the outside, filled with yellowed curtains and ripped couches, their stuffing and springs showing in various places. Cans and cigarette ashes lay all over the floor and tables, among other grotesque items. I kick some things around and continue pushing Steve around his own house. "Me and my friends wanted to ask you some questions about the recent murders."

"Jade?" I hear Sam call out. Chairs start scraping against the floor and I push both myself and Steve towards that direction. Un-freaking-believable. Sam and Dean are helping themselves to some beers from Steve's fridge and just now standing up from a game of cards.

"You seriously left me in the car? For this schizo to find?" I shout at them, furious. "Thanks. How considerate of you." I smack Dean on the side of the head after I throw Steve down in the now unoccupied chair and hand the knife to Sam. "I mean, seriously. No freaking wonder you thought it would be dangerous, if you're planning on ditching me at a lunatics' den. STOP. LEAVING. ME. IN. THE. CAR!" I annunciate in a roar and then sigh, calming down. I point my hand towards the house tenant. "This is Steve, by the way. Say hi."

Sam and Dean both look awed, eyebrows crossed in a completely amusing way. They're definitely brothers. "Uh, hi. Um, sir. We work for the…" Dean says, trying and failing to sound professional and law-enforcing.

"I think that cover is kind of blown, Dean." I interrupt and plop myself in the opposite chair. Looking at Steve, I start to explain why we're here. "We're not cops. We're not government agents. We're just looking for who, or what, has been killing people lately. And we hear you're in the know." I'm not about to take shit from anyone right now. I'm completely furious at everyone in this house, and I'm ready to get some answers straightforwardly. I scratch my nails along the wooded edge of the table, bringing out splinters and small pieces of decayed bark. "So. Tell us what you know, and we'll very happily leave."

Steve actually looks defeated now. I'm pretty sure his left eye is bigger than his right, somehow, and it's really creeping me out. Sam comes over and stands behind my chair, and I get up to trade places with him. He sits down and starts to question Steve as I walk over to a corner of the room and lean my back against the plain white wall. I'm really beginning to rethink this "helping" thing. I assumed these missions would be slightly more adventurous and a lot less annoying. I listen half-heartedly as Steve described a human-like animal with wings and red eyes. I watch Dean roll his eyes, but something sparks in my memory as he goes on to describe the creature. Then I start laughing.

Everyone looks at me, and Steve looks incredibly pissed that I failed to believe him. But my thoughts are actually contrary. "Let's go, guys. I know what it is. And, hopefully, how to kill it."

"What?" Sam asks, confused, following after me. Dean inclines his head to Steve and heads in front of me out the door. "Listen, Jade, we've been hunting practically our whole lives, and we –"

"Right. Which is probably why you've never had time to watch any movies." I smile. "Have you ever heard of The Mothman Prophesies?" I tilt my head to the side in an almost condescending way. I'm a total movie buff, and I'm glad to see it pay off for something. "It's rooted deep in myth and "sightings" of a creature that Steve described almost exactly. I researched it for a paper in my film class."

Dean snorts. "A moth man?" His smirk is so vile I want to use Steve's knife to perform a Joker-like facelift on him.

"Dean, maybe she has something here." Sam exclaims. He gets to the passenger side of the car and pulls it open just before Dean and I get there. We all file into the Impala, yet again – things are already starting to get incredibly repetitive. "It's at least worth looking into."

"Ugh" Dean sounds disgusted. "Okay then, research boy, make yourself useful." He rolls down his window and starts the car, not even taking a second glance back at Steve's house. We go from one destination to the next, rarely settling down for more than a few minutes in one spot. Life on the road sounded sort of fun before, but I can already see it getting old. Dean makes a clicking sound with his mouth and looks back at Sam "And find out how to kill it."

"Oh, I think I've got that one covered." I smile, looking in Dean's rearview mirror until his eyes meet mine. I bring my hands up in spirit fingers and spark out flames to the tips of my fingers, making a rippling effect of jumping inferno. "Fire, baby."

"Watch it in the car!" Dean yells with a hilariously worried look on his face.

Hell, maybe the road won't be so bad after all.


End file.
